


let's conspire to ignite

by xerampelinae



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stardust Fusion, Bathing/Washing, Episode: s02e08 The Blade of Marmora, M/M, Post-Kerberos Mission, Pre-Kerberos Mission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 20:25:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16249178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xerampelinae/pseuds/xerampelinae
Summary: Something crashes outside and Keith startles. “What’s going on outside?”“Don’t worry about that,” his father says, “we’ll be fine as long as we stay in here. Don’t you wanna catch up?”The afternoon light is liquid and strange as it paints the room in reds and golds. It doesn’t feel real; it feels like a dream Keith would have after tears ran out and his body had been exhausted with the too-heavy weight of his heart. But it’s been so long since he’s seen his father.“Of course I do,” Keith says.-Some Galra are stars. Keith's mom turns out to be one of them. Stardust au.





	let's conspire to ignite

“What do stars do best?” Keith’s pop asks, fond and familiar.

“Dunno,” Keith says, laughing as his pop hefts him into the air and catches him again, too young to know that in two years his father will be dead. This question is an old friend, even unanswered.

“That’s okay, kiddo,” his pop says. “You’ll figure it out.”

-

He says it aloud on one of his and Shiro’s hoverbike rides, watching the sunset paint delicate color across the desert slopes.

“Hm?” Shiro says, turning away from the view.

Keith huffs out a laugh, unbothered by the fading ache of his bruised face. “‘What do stars do best?’ I dunno, it’s just something my pop used to say.”

“Burn?” Shiro suggests. “Radiate energy in the form of light and heat?”

Keith shrugs. “I never figured it out. As far as I can tell, stars may as well fight best.”

They laugh together, and from then it’s one fewer thing that will fade with his pop’s memory.

-

Keith knows that there’s a chance that Shiro won’t make it back from Kerberos, even barring rapid and fatal progression of illness. Space is a broad, relatively unknown frontier where anything can be deadly, even without any mistakes made. He knows, but doesn’t ask or beg for Shiro to stay--the mission is what Shiro wants, and Keith would never ask him to forsake that.

But this--this judgement of pilot error is _wrong._

Keith’s heart burns the way it has since the launch carried Shiro away, but worse, aching and throbbing now in a way that reminds him of an iconograph hung in the group home. The Seven Sorrows were each an arrow in Mary’s heart and it’s the best description Keith can muster as he wanders the desert with his meager possessions and the hoverbike Shiro had asked him to maintain in his absence. The knife--knives?--of loss and grief lodge in his heart and cut just a little more with every heartbeat.

It’s a lonely year made lonelier still. At times the ache in Keith’s heart is the only thing that feels as real as Shiro’s loss.

-

The ache is finally subsumed by wonder when Keith crosses the field quarantine tent and finds Shiro there--alive, if not entirely intact.

Shiro isn’t quite okay: lost-looking and vulnerable when alone with Keith, a valiant and recruitment poster-perfect portrait otherwise. And when he’s alone--Keith can only hope his demons don’t tear him apart.

It’s not despair dragging Keith’s heart down anymore. He can swallow this ache.

-

The Blades of Marmora demand knowledge or death. Shiro protests but Keith can’t let go of the possibility answers, of filling in the wide swathes of unknown in his past.

“You are not meant to go through that door,” the Blades say. “Surrender the blade, you cannot win.”

Keith fights and fights and fights until he finds his way out; he fights until finally he drops, gasping and alone on the floor of an empty hallway. A shadow falls across his face as his breathing settles; by the time Keith’s eyes clear, Shiro’s reaching down for him. The harsh shadows ease ever so much as Keith lets himself be pulled upright.

“Shiro?” he says, grimacing when his injured shoulder is jostled.

“Kolivan says you lasted longer than anyone ever has in these battles,” Shiro says. “You don’t have to keep this up.”

“What are you talking about?” Keith asks, heart dropping. The shadows lengthen as if to match his mood.

Shiro smiles. “Just give them the knife and let’s get out of here.”

“I--” Keith says. “I can’t give it to them, Shiro.”

“What is with it with you and that thing?” Shiro says, voice turning knife-sharp.

“It’s the only connection I have to my past,” Keith says, slow and desperate for Shiro to understand its importance. “It’s my chance to learn who I really am.”

“You know exactly who you are,” Shiro says.

Keith shakes his head, slow and pained. “I have to do this,” he says.

“No, you don’t,” Shiro says. “Just give them the knife.”

It takes a heartbeat for Keith to gather the words. “I’ve made my choice.”

“Then you’ve chosen to be alone,” Shiro says, and walks away.

Keith reaches out. “Shiro--wait!”

Before he catches up to Shiro, he’s back in his old house in the desert.

“Keith,” a ghost says.

“Dad?” Keith gasps. Seeing his father ties his heart into a tight knot.

“You’re home, son.”

Something crashes outside and Keith startles. “What’s going on outside?”

“Don’t worry about that,” his father says, “we’ll be fine as long as we stay in here. Don’t you wanna catch up?”

The afternoon light is liquid and strange as it paints the room in reds and golds. It doesn’t feel real; it feels like a dream Keith would have after tears ran out and his body had been exhausted with the too-heavy weight of his heart. But it’s been so long since he’s seen his father.

“Of course I do,” Keith says.

“So many years have passed,” his father says. “I have so much to tell you.”

Again, something crashes outside.

“What’s that?” Keith asks again.

“Everything’s fine,” his father soothes gruffly, but this time Keith crosses the room to draw back the makeshift curtain to see a Galran warship sweeping destruction across the desert. Distantly, the Red Lion lies still. Waiting for him, Keith thinks.

“Dad,” Keith says. “I’m sorry--I gotta go. There’s people out there that need me.”

“Don’t you wanna know where you came from?” his father says, holding Keith’s knife in his hands. “Your mother gave it to me.”

For a moment Keith freezes, words and distant screams washing over him without understanding. “Mom?” he says.

“She’ll be here soon,” his father says, like he’s coaxing Keith to stay awake the rest of the trip home or to walk just a little father. “She’ll tell you everything.”

“I can’t wait around anymore,” Keith says regretfully, shaking his head. “I have to go.”

“If you walk out that door,” his father says, “you’ll never find out who you are. Or what stars do best.”

Keith freezes, hand on the door knob. But this is an old, familiar grief and the world is still burning outside the door. “Goodbye, Dad.”

-

The sounds of destruction are still around Keith when he opens his eyes. He’s on the ground again; this time he hears the frantic patter of Shiro’s feet and then Shiro is carefully, carefully helping him up.

“Keith, are you okay?” Shiro asks, voice low with concern. His hands are gentle as he searches for any hint of exacerbated injury.

“Stop what you’re doing,” Kolivan says, bursting into the hall with Antok at his side.

Carefully, Shiro guides Keith’s arm over his shoulders, habitually leaving his knife hand free. Shiro’s poised to respond to attack, tension obvious in his shoulders.

“What are you talking about?” Keith says. “What’s going on?”

“We’re leaving,” Shiro says.

“Call off your beast,” Kolivan demands. “You’re not leaving with that blade.”

“Give up your blade,” Antok echoes.

Keith has a split second to respond before Shiro and Antok clash, hand to knife; on unsteady feet, Keith trembles as he lifts his knife. “Wait--just take the knife.”

In his hand, the knife glows brighter and brighter until finally it transforms.

“You’ve awoken the blade,” Antok breathes.

“The only way this is possible is if Galra blood runs in your veins,” Kolivan says.

Shiro is just fast enough to catch Keith when his knees buckle.

-

“Do you know--” Kolivan says. “What stars do best?”

Wearily, Keith shakes his head.

-

In the aftermath, Shiro finds Keith in his room. It’s not as much of a surprise as it might be; Keith had had Shiro’s room code in the year before the Kerberos launch--they have each had the other’s room code for that long, so Keith could slip into Shiro’s room when he needed to get _away._

“You need a pod,” Shiro says, moving to help Keith out of his armor for the second time that day. He’d tried to wrap what cuts he could the first time, but that still left vulnerable countless scrapes and bruises. Keith had fought for _hours._ Any of those injuries could have been aggravated further by the physicality required in piloting a lion.

Keith trembles and shakes his head. “I--I can’t.”

“They’ll come around,” Shiro promises. “I’ll stay with you, as long as it takes--”

“It’s not that,” Keith says, eyes wide and tearful and pleading. “I’m a hybrid and--I’m different.”

Shiro sees the effort it takes Keith to verbalize this, how he’s already squaring his shoulders to bear what _Shiro_ wants, and bows his head. “Okay,” Shiro says. “Okay. Just--let me take care of you.”

-

It might be easier to clean Keith up with a wet cloth, but that’s not what Keith needs,  
Shiro thinks. Keith needs comfort and assurance. Hot water eases many burdens; Shiro has only to improvise a shower seat and waterproof bandaging.

Water pours from both a spout overhead and a hand attachment. Gently, unsurely, Shiro guides the stream around each covered injury, unwilling to test its seal or integrity. His hands wash Keith’s hair with a surprising deftness. The lighting shifts and the shadows soften. Even as Shiro notices that, Keith opens his eyes and casts his gaze down into his empty palms.

“Keith?” Shiro asks as warm water falls around them.

“Kolivan asked me,” Keith says. “If I knew what stars do best. And I didn’t.”

Shiro waits quietly.

“They _shine,_ ” Keith sobs, and the light dims again as he curls in on himself where he sits. “Some of the Galra are different, and when they’re happy they shine, and sometimes witches like to eat their hearts.”

“Keith--” Shiro says.

“--And it’s been a long day and everyone else doesn’t trust me, but _you,_ you’re still here, putting me back together after another one of my fuck-ups, and apparently that’s enough to make me glow.”

“Keith,” Shiro says again, soft as he kneels down. “Of course I’m here.”

Impulsively, Shiro pulls Keith close, bare chest to bare chest and somehow warmer than the water still falling around them. He presses a kiss to Keith’s temple; before he can worry whether it’s too intrusive an action, he feels Keith lean into it. His heart swells and his worry eases.

“Come on,” he says, almost nonsensically. Steam hangs in the air after the shower shuts off as he towels Keith off and slips him into the loose Paladin pajama top--it falls to a too-flattering length of mid-thigh that barely covers the borrowed boxers and rests low on his too-interesting collar bones--before Shiro strips his flightsuit the remainder of the way off in favor of the matching pajama bottoms. 

It’s another small act of selfishness, like the kiss--Shiro unwilling to separate from Keith long enough to retrieve any of Keith’s own clothing--but marked out in the soft fabric of the Castle-generated pajamas.

“Will you stay?” Shiro asks belatedly, halfway through tucking Keith into his bed. It’s the same bare furnishing as Keith’s own room and Keith settles easily in, sliding over to the wall and nosing along the pillow. The Shiro-sized space calls to him. 

“Oh,” he says. “Oh.”

Keith is sleepy-eyed and liquid as the analgesic takes effect, warm when Shiro climbs under the covers and links their hands. He begins to shine gently. They’re both asleep before Shiro can ask again what stars do best.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Muse's "Starlight."  
> The showerhead mentioned is inspired by the one I ended up installing in my bathroom after trying 2 other (cheaper) showerheads that were both broken, but in different ways. Thank you Costco for your awesome return policies. Still not sure entirely what to expect when I next scrub that shower.  
> I'm over on tumblr as xerampelinaekiss if anyone wants to talk Voltron.


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